The hands dragged us forcefully back down to the base of the stairs
and spun us around without ever loosening their iron-grip. With no small
trace of fear I looked up into a pair of ice-cold blue eyes, set in a face
as pale and as hard as rock, topped by a shock of white-blond hair.
The icy eyes barely paid me heed, as they moved on to Wren. But in that brief moment, before they passed on, I felt a chill go through me as though someone had come up behind me and dumped over my head a bucket of ice-melt.
As he looked at Wren, his eyes narrowed, and grew hard. Any warmth that had been contained in them as they passed me was now gone.
"Wren," he said, is eyes narrowing even more and a scowl appearing slightly upon his face. "Is this the example that you set for your cousin on her first day in our band? And you the Color Guard Captain! If this is all the responsibility that you are planning to show this year, then it is very debatable whether or not you still be the Captain after this week." Wren gulped at his words and hung her head. "Come. We must go now; the buses are waiting, and there are many more people to gather before we will be able to leave for the week," he said, ending his monologue and sweeping us forcefully over to our scattered pile of luggage.
Picking all of it up they were then forcefully guided through the door and out of the house. Pausing only long enough for Kelter to say back over his shoulder to my mother, "thank you for all of your generous help ma'am. These two shall be returned safely to you shortly after a weeks time." Then, once again facing forward, his rock-hard grip returned and forcefully guided us to one of the middle buses. Pushing us roughly inside, so that we stumbled upon the stairs, he himself turned and walked over to a new jeep four-wheeler parked nearby, got in and drove off to the next band member's household.
Shockingly enough after all of the Drum Majors insistence, the bus was practically empty, with only four other people and the driver on board. While the students looked curiously at me and nodded greetings to Wren, the driver steadfastly ignored him; safe behind his protective layer of Plexiglas and meshed steel.
"Well. Now would you kindly explain exactly what just happened, who that was, and why he was so pissed off at you?" I snapped out, turning to look at Wren with a mixture of confusion and annoyance upon my face. I was beginning to become more then a little angry about not having a clue about what was going on.
"That was Kelter, our drum major, or 'Matthew Pierier' if you listen to him. He's not even French for crying out loud! He's German!" she cried out in utter disgust, but seeing my look of annoyance grow she hurriedly continued. "He's been the head drum major in our band for two years now, and he struts around more then enough to prove it! As for why he doesn't like me I'm afraid that you'll have to ask him about that, because I'm not going to tell you."
All through this little conversation of Wren's and mine, we both failed to notice that all four of the other people on the bus had come up and were sitting on some of the seats all around us.
"Oh come on Wren— why not tell her, tell all of us for a matter of fact. I for one have been dying to know for years." This came not from me, but from the fire-orange, obviously died, haired boy sitting in the seat in front of me.
Wren turned, moving her death-glare from me to the lad who had so foolishly spoken. "I don't believe that I was speaking to you at the moment Neal."
"You weren't but that's the truly the great thing about me, I'll respond to your talking either way. Who's your friend?" he asked, switching topics so randomly that it made me jump.
"Oh, this is my cousin, she's a Tenor Sax and her name's Lynn." Wren paused, trying to figure out what had just happened. "Hey!" she cried, figuring it out. "Don't you change the subject on me young man!"
"Young man! How dare yee! If yee were not but a lass I would smite yee for that comment alone! I shall have thee know that I am a full grown man of the age of seventeen!" He cried indignantly, puffing himself up to his full height. But this 'dignified image' was quickly spoiled when the lad in the seat next to him hit Neal hard in the stomach with his elbow.
"Oh shut up Firefly. You know very well that you are very likely the most immature of us all, so you might as well stop trying," muttered the boy who had elbowed Neal. Neal, on the other hand, just glared at the speaker, trying to get his wind back.
The lad who had spoken had a much kinder and more youthful face then that of Kelters, and his blue eyes where much warmer. But they were almost lost when one noticed his hair. It had many black and white stripes running front to back upon it. I saw this and had to forcefully pull myself away from staring at it. When I finally managed to do this, I noticed that he had been reading sheet music from a flip chart, and had set it down to stop the argument. I also saw something sticking out of his shirt pocket; it appeared to be a bottle of valve oil.
"Nobody asked you anyways Skink! Now why don't you go back to memorizing your music like a good teachers pet, while Wren and I continue the conversation that you so rudely interrupted." Neal snapped back at the striped haired boy.
"No, but I responded anyways. Now calm down Firefly! We haven't even left yet, and you're already becoming jumpy. You don't want Kelter to see you acting like this, he'll take away your section leadership." Skink replied calmly. Neal rolled his eyes and grinned.
"Like I care what that stupid prick thinks of me. You worry too much. He couldn't do anything to me if he wanted to."
"Care full there Nealen. You wouldn't want word of your insolence getting back to Matthew now would you?" This came from an as-of-yet unnoticed boy with pale, fine features, black hair, and eyes of such a dark grey that they almost appeared black. "But if trouble with him is what you want, I'll see that he delivers. After all, he already promised to make her life a living hell this week," the boy nodded his head at Marie as he said this, "and I'm sure that he would have no problem adding you to his black list," all of this was complemented by the self-satisfied smirk that was pasted onto his face. "He probably would add her too, just for the crime of being seen with you two idiots," he added, nodding his head towards me. I was, by this time, thoroughly lost and confused, not having a clue as to what was going on.
Anger flashing in his eyes like molten lava, Neal jumped out of his seat. "Why you little—"he cut off quickly with a glance towards me, then continued, slightly calmer. "How dare you come onto my bus and talk to me this way you little worm! I ought to kill you right now!" Neal said in a low, cold voice, starting towards the boy in a fighters walk with his fists raised, ready to strike out at him.
Wren and a kid with leaf green hair quickly jumped up to separate Neal from the boy, who sat there calmly as Neal was being physically restrained from hitting him, and Skink stepped carefully in front of me to keep me from getting hit in the crossfire. "Neal, don't! It's not worth it!" the kid with green hair cried out from between clenched teeth, when this failed to elect a response he shouted "Firefly!"
Although I did not understand this strange cry, it caused Neal to snap back into reality. Stiffly— like an insulted cat— he sat back down upon his bench, as the black-haired boy got up and walked fluidly off the bus. Neal was staring at the toes of his shoes, as if determined not to look anyone in the eye, as he softly muttered "sorry."
a/n- Thanks for the 'review' anubuss. It's somewhat comforting to know that at least my friends read my stuff, and yes. I will continue to broadcast your stories forever more, just to annoy you. After all, what else are friends for?
Thanks also to Countess Katook, who, apparently, has me down under her author alerts.
I will make it be known now that I do not hate trumpets (even though sitting in front of them gives me a headache), quite the opposite in fact, some of my closest friends are (or were) trumpets.
Beware the Gonkey!
The icy eyes barely paid me heed, as they moved on to Wren. But in that brief moment, before they passed on, I felt a chill go through me as though someone had come up behind me and dumped over my head a bucket of ice-melt.
As he looked at Wren, his eyes narrowed, and grew hard. Any warmth that had been contained in them as they passed me was now gone.
"Wren," he said, is eyes narrowing even more and a scowl appearing slightly upon his face. "Is this the example that you set for your cousin on her first day in our band? And you the Color Guard Captain! If this is all the responsibility that you are planning to show this year, then it is very debatable whether or not you still be the Captain after this week." Wren gulped at his words and hung her head. "Come. We must go now; the buses are waiting, and there are many more people to gather before we will be able to leave for the week," he said, ending his monologue and sweeping us forcefully over to our scattered pile of luggage.
Picking all of it up they were then forcefully guided through the door and out of the house. Pausing only long enough for Kelter to say back over his shoulder to my mother, "thank you for all of your generous help ma'am. These two shall be returned safely to you shortly after a weeks time." Then, once again facing forward, his rock-hard grip returned and forcefully guided us to one of the middle buses. Pushing us roughly inside, so that we stumbled upon the stairs, he himself turned and walked over to a new jeep four-wheeler parked nearby, got in and drove off to the next band member's household.
Shockingly enough after all of the Drum Majors insistence, the bus was practically empty, with only four other people and the driver on board. While the students looked curiously at me and nodded greetings to Wren, the driver steadfastly ignored him; safe behind his protective layer of Plexiglas and meshed steel.
"Well. Now would you kindly explain exactly what just happened, who that was, and why he was so pissed off at you?" I snapped out, turning to look at Wren with a mixture of confusion and annoyance upon my face. I was beginning to become more then a little angry about not having a clue about what was going on.
"That was Kelter, our drum major, or 'Matthew Pierier' if you listen to him. He's not even French for crying out loud! He's German!" she cried out in utter disgust, but seeing my look of annoyance grow she hurriedly continued. "He's been the head drum major in our band for two years now, and he struts around more then enough to prove it! As for why he doesn't like me I'm afraid that you'll have to ask him about that, because I'm not going to tell you."
All through this little conversation of Wren's and mine, we both failed to notice that all four of the other people on the bus had come up and were sitting on some of the seats all around us.
"Oh come on Wren— why not tell her, tell all of us for a matter of fact. I for one have been dying to know for years." This came not from me, but from the fire-orange, obviously died, haired boy sitting in the seat in front of me.
Wren turned, moving her death-glare from me to the lad who had so foolishly spoken. "I don't believe that I was speaking to you at the moment Neal."
"You weren't but that's the truly the great thing about me, I'll respond to your talking either way. Who's your friend?" he asked, switching topics so randomly that it made me jump.
"Oh, this is my cousin, she's a Tenor Sax and her name's Lynn." Wren paused, trying to figure out what had just happened. "Hey!" she cried, figuring it out. "Don't you change the subject on me young man!"
"Young man! How dare yee! If yee were not but a lass I would smite yee for that comment alone! I shall have thee know that I am a full grown man of the age of seventeen!" He cried indignantly, puffing himself up to his full height. But this 'dignified image' was quickly spoiled when the lad in the seat next to him hit Neal hard in the stomach with his elbow.
"Oh shut up Firefly. You know very well that you are very likely the most immature of us all, so you might as well stop trying," muttered the boy who had elbowed Neal. Neal, on the other hand, just glared at the speaker, trying to get his wind back.
The lad who had spoken had a much kinder and more youthful face then that of Kelters, and his blue eyes where much warmer. But they were almost lost when one noticed his hair. It had many black and white stripes running front to back upon it. I saw this and had to forcefully pull myself away from staring at it. When I finally managed to do this, I noticed that he had been reading sheet music from a flip chart, and had set it down to stop the argument. I also saw something sticking out of his shirt pocket; it appeared to be a bottle of valve oil.
"Nobody asked you anyways Skink! Now why don't you go back to memorizing your music like a good teachers pet, while Wren and I continue the conversation that you so rudely interrupted." Neal snapped back at the striped haired boy.
"No, but I responded anyways. Now calm down Firefly! We haven't even left yet, and you're already becoming jumpy. You don't want Kelter to see you acting like this, he'll take away your section leadership." Skink replied calmly. Neal rolled his eyes and grinned.
"Like I care what that stupid prick thinks of me. You worry too much. He couldn't do anything to me if he wanted to."
"Care full there Nealen. You wouldn't want word of your insolence getting back to Matthew now would you?" This came from an as-of-yet unnoticed boy with pale, fine features, black hair, and eyes of such a dark grey that they almost appeared black. "But if trouble with him is what you want, I'll see that he delivers. After all, he already promised to make her life a living hell this week," the boy nodded his head at Marie as he said this, "and I'm sure that he would have no problem adding you to his black list," all of this was complemented by the self-satisfied smirk that was pasted onto his face. "He probably would add her too, just for the crime of being seen with you two idiots," he added, nodding his head towards me. I was, by this time, thoroughly lost and confused, not having a clue as to what was going on.
Anger flashing in his eyes like molten lava, Neal jumped out of his seat. "Why you little—"he cut off quickly with a glance towards me, then continued, slightly calmer. "How dare you come onto my bus and talk to me this way you little worm! I ought to kill you right now!" Neal said in a low, cold voice, starting towards the boy in a fighters walk with his fists raised, ready to strike out at him.
Wren and a kid with leaf green hair quickly jumped up to separate Neal from the boy, who sat there calmly as Neal was being physically restrained from hitting him, and Skink stepped carefully in front of me to keep me from getting hit in the crossfire. "Neal, don't! It's not worth it!" the kid with green hair cried out from between clenched teeth, when this failed to elect a response he shouted "Firefly!"
Although I did not understand this strange cry, it caused Neal to snap back into reality. Stiffly— like an insulted cat— he sat back down upon his bench, as the black-haired boy got up and walked fluidly off the bus. Neal was staring at the toes of his shoes, as if determined not to look anyone in the eye, as he softly muttered "sorry."
a/n- Thanks for the 'review' anubuss. It's somewhat comforting to know that at least my friends read my stuff, and yes. I will continue to broadcast your stories forever more, just to annoy you. After all, what else are friends for?
Thanks also to Countess Katook, who, apparently, has me down under her author alerts.
I will make it be known now that I do not hate trumpets (even though sitting in front of them gives me a headache), quite the opposite in fact, some of my closest friends are (or were) trumpets.
Beware the Gonkey!
